Late Night Drinking
by aces
Summary: Another epilogue--to "Lord of Air and Darkness." Jules works through some issues.


Late Night Drinking [Session]

I noticed Jules had some serious issues to deal with after "Lord of Air and Darkness" and who'd be better to help him through that angst than Phil?A tiny spoiler for "Eyes of Lazarus" and major spoilers of course for "LoAaD."And I don't touch alcohol, so if I've messed up there somehow, it's only because I have no experience in that area.Honest!Anyway, I don't own Phileas, Jules, or the _Aurora, and I make no money off this story.You know the drill, I'm sure.;-)_

Late Night Drinking

"Verne?What the devil are you doing?"

Phileas Fogg hadn't been able to sleep.The others had gone to bed hours ago--when he had, after getting Rebecca and Jules inside the _Aurora, cleaning up the gash on Jules's forehead, debriefing each other on what had happened, and deciding what needed to be done next--only Fogg had spent the hours in between tossing and turning rather than peacefully catching up on his rest.He'd at last decided only a drink could numb him, and he'd pulled on his robe to come downstairs, rejecting the idea of waking Passepartout to get the drink for him._

And there he found Jules Verne, sitting up--drooping over would be more accurate--at the table, a nearly empty bottle of red wine and a nearly full glass of the same sticky liquid in front of him.A small, neat patch of white glared out from the side of the Frenchman's face, an ugly reminder of what had just happened.He'd changed out of his detested League uniform as soon as he could after getting back into the _Aurora, and now wore his customary plaid waistcoat and watch chain.He was staring as if mesmerized into the glass; when Fogg spoke, he looked up at the other man blearily._

"Oh," he said and took a swig from his wineglass.

Fogg lifted an eyebrow and waited.When Verne said nothing else, ignoring the other man's presence altogether, Phileas headed for his drinks cabinet and poured himself a brandy.He sat down across from Jules, glass in hand.

"May I ask why you're drinking my wine?"Phileas almost added he was wasting a superb year--or at least, not giving it due respect by getting so dreadfully drunk on it without paying any attention to its taste and quality--but something warned him not to be too flippant with the other man.For once he restrained himself.

Jules was blinking at the Englishman calmly, a sort of disconnected state he could only achieve after a large quantity of alcohol."It's the only way I know to get drunk," he stated reasonably and drank some more from his glass.

"True," Phileas had to concede and sipped at his brandy.He was effortlessly hiding his concern for his friend, but he was definitely worried.Verne was always moderate with his alcohol on the _Aurora, and he would never have a drink--let alone a whole bottle, or even more as Fogg suspected--without asking Fogg's permission first.He was so utterly polite that way._

Of course Phileas knew what was bothering the writer.It had started with that wretched Lazarus affair; Verne had felt almost as guilty as Fogg for having Passepartout locked away in that awful cell.The writer had been a bit broody ever since, despite the manservant's own attempts to cheer him up.And then he'd gone all passionate about that damned book of Hugo's...and now he was probably feeling like a miserable, wretched ass for being used and duped by Helene d'Anjou.Not to mention shaken at almost being conned into the League of Darkness.Phileas found himself half-hoping Jules felt additionally guilty for being so rude before rushing off and disappearing on him and the others into the French countryside.But he quashed that feeling as being beneath his dignity.

Fogg really couldn't blame the man for wanting to get as drunk as possible.But how could he talk to him, help him feel better?

It was not something Fogg was accustomed to doing.As an English gentleman, he'd always found it easier not to discuss emotions--whether they be his own or somebody else's.So he kept the usual unconcerned, slightly mocking mask on his face as he drank and tried to think of something appropriate to say.

"Are you going to lecture me or not?" Verne's slurred voice broke into his thoughts.

"Lecture you, Verne?What on Earth makes you think I'd do that?"

Jules scowled into his wine as he held the glass cupped firmly in his hands.Perhaps so he wouldn't drop it, Phileas considered."Aren't you at least going to say 'I told you so'?Come on, Fogg, this is your chance.You must be dying to be your usual smug, superior self."His bitter tone was only exacerbated by his inebriation.

Fogg calmly took another measured sip of his drink."I'm insulted Verne," he said after he carefully set the glass down."I am never smug and superior."His light tone belied the fact that the words really had stung--did Verne actually think him such an arrogant upper class elitist?Surely he wasn't _that bad?_

Verne snorted mirthlessly, and the cynical sound coming from that young idealist almost physically hurt the Englishman."I was an idiot.You were right.Again.You must be pleased."He drained his glass and stared at its bottom wearily before going to pour the rest of the wine bottle into it.The look of honest misery on Jules's face forestalled Fogg's attempt to disregard the writer's emotions; the Englishman could no longer be flippant.This was too serious.

Phileas placed his hand over Verne's on the bottle, arresting the younger man's movement.Jules looked up at him, eyes slightly unfocused but still conveying his anger and resentment.Fogg held his gaze and didn't remove his hand.Jules had to look away first, ashamed.Fogg let go of the bottle and the hand.

"You were angry with me," Fogg said quietly."And the countess is a beautiful woman."He didn't want his friend to feel ashamed, damn it.He didn't want his friend to feel guilty either, or resent him.Yes, Verne had been acting pig-headedly, but Phileas had hurt his pride, and Phileas knew very well what pride could lead people to do--after all, his own pride had made him act selfishly, refusing to lend Verne the _Aurora and Passepartout in the first place. This whole mess had started off because Verne had been trying to help out an old priest; Fogg could not fault the writer's caring and helpful nature.It was part of what made him Jules Verne, and Phileas wouldn't change his friend for anything._

"That's no excuse," Jules muttered, still refusing to meet Fogg's eye."Because of me, the League of Darkness has a plan to defeat the Union and help the Confederacy--and slavery--win.Once again I helped the wrong side."His frustration was getting the better of him as his words became louder and more slurred.

"Oh, don't be an idiot, Verne," Fogg snapped out impatiently, exasperated by Jules's self-piteous moanings.Jules looked at him in wide-eyed surprise, quickly reverting to resentful anger.Just what Phileas _didn't want."Yes, perhaps you did help the League," Fogg went on, managing to hold onto the younger man's gaze this time."But now they know they can't use that plan because __we know about it.They'll have to think of something else.And __we will stop them.They've barely got a head start on us to the United States as it is; we'll catch them up in no time."_

"That still doesn't change how I acted," Verne argued, gesturing wildly with his arms.He winced and automatically raised his left hand to his right shoulder; Rebecca had told her cousin how the Frenchman had grabbed the chain she was holding onto before it could fall out of the ship and send her with it to her death.The writer's shoulders must be in complete agony; Fogg was surprised one or both of them hadn't been dislocated--or that Verne hadn't complained more about the discomfort he was going through.Perhaps he thought the pain was his punishment, the Englishman mused.And probably the drink had dulled most of it by now.Besides, Verne never did speak up when he was hurt, did he?Fogg shook his head.More pride.His own influence wasn't helping the man.

"Yes, and you can't change how you acted," Fogg countered."So there's no use beating yourself up over it."

Verne raised his eyebrows at him, the sardonic expression unusual and out of place on his face.Fogg scowled and bad-temperedly took another sip of his brandy.

"I'm sorry Fogg," Jules said after a strained pause.The words came out with difficulty but his eyes showed his sincerity--and the depth of his guilt.

"Oh, I should apologize," Fogg sighed wearily in reply; he didn't want to say these words--who ever did?But he couldn't leave the other man feeling so wretched."I should have helped you when you asked me to."_Perhaps I could have kept you out of trouble then, he added to himself but knew he daren't say that aloud; Verne already thought Fogg's opinion of him was impossibly low.And knowing Verne, even Phileas couldn't have stopped the writer getting himself involved._

Phileas paused--perhaps it was the drink, small though the quantity he'd imbibed was, or perhaps it was the lateness of the hour after a long, stressful day, or even the fact that they were alone, the others asleep and unaware of the conversation occurring below them--but he went on:"I don't blame you, Verne.I'm sorry if I've ever given you the impression that I think you're incapable or not good enough to be associated with us.It's quite the opposite, I assure you."There.He'd said as much as he could--and even that much had been damned difficult.

Jules blinked, Fogg's words sinking into his beleaguered mind.Then he looked up and smiled at Phileas beatifically."Thank you, Fogg," he said in pleased surprise.

Fogg smiled at the younger man affectionately, thinking Verne must be very drunk indeed to be so gratified by his words.As if sensing what the Englishman was thinking, the Frenchman's eyes focused with some little difficulty on the near-empty wine bottle on the table in front of him, a frown of intense concentration on his face.Suddenly he looked very sheepish."I'm sorry, Fogg, I appear to have drunk this entire bottle..."He appeared to be struggling to remember if there were other bottles he'd already drunk and forgotten about.

"It's all right, Verne," Phileas said lightly."That is what it's there for."

"I'll put what's left away," Verne decided and stood up shakily.He reached down to pick up the bottle and staggered.

"Ahh, I'll handle that."Fogg snatched the wine away before Jules could touch it."Why don't you sit down again?Relax," he suggested, crossing to the cabinet and safely stowing what was left of the wine in the back.

"Relax..." Jules agreed, sliding back onto the couch and closing his eyes, the exhausted, dark circles under his eyes abruptly extremely visible.Fogg watched him for a moment in amused and exasperated concern, then strode back to the table.

"Come on, Verne," he said, helping the writer to lie down properly."If you're going to fall asleep or pass out, you might as well be comfortable about it."He found the Frenchman's threadbare coat tossed onto another chair and spread it out over Jules as a rough approximation of a blanket.Verne was already asleep, an arm falling over the side of the couch and his mouth hanging slightly open."Rest, Jules," Fogg said quietly with a worried frown."I fear our problems are only beginning."

He turned away to go upstairs and make an attempt once more to fall asleep, when out of the corner of his eye he saw his brandy glass.It still had a little liquid left in it.

He drained the alcohol and left the glass on the table for Passeparout to find and clean in the morning.And then he went upstairs to bed.


End file.
